Cucumba, I challenge thee!

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Ok, technically I wanted to put this off some. Engage in a couple of fights, get a feel for it, then I'd take on the 'big one.' Now though, whatever way I look at it I'm putting this off out of cowardice. Can't keep that going - wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror and things like that. Besides, I might just be the first to beat you.

Maybe.

Probably not.

So anyway, I'm throwing down the glove, I challenge thee Cucumba..

(Don't hurt me O_O)
 
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I accept your challenge, Engar, infact, you're on my list of things to do. Don't hold back, I want to see what you are really capable of.
 
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Ok, I'll start with the traditional smack-talk..

Cucumba, it's hard to talk against you. You're the top man, the one at the head of everything as far as this Forum is concerned. The team may have made the game but without you I'm not sure the Forum would be the largely friendly, usually law-abiding place today.

But, Cucumba, in all honesty you're old hat. Your time was long and great but the age of the Cucumba is drawing to a close. It's time for fresh blood; it's time for a newcomer; it's a time, not to put too fine a point on it, for me. I'm gonna kick your wrinkly green ass all over this place and when I'm through with you you're gonna bow down and recognise my superiority.

The Age of Engar has come, you ready?

(Suitably trashy I hope.. :))
 
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**Miroku slaps Engar for jumping the gun**

Your sposed to let the ref say he's gonna ref before the thing goes down.

So... I'll ref for you. Venue is the local supermarket
 
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Engar, Engar, Engar. I'm suprised, frankly, I expected better from you. Once again, I am sold as "old hat", something that has stagnated, or perhaps something that needs replacing. And the inevitable conclusion is that you are suitable for the role I will vacate, ergo, you state that the dawn of a new age is upon us. I contend however, that this day will prove that I am not a "regime" to be toppled. I am as constant as the northern star, and eternal as the wind.

Now you to will be shown that the culmination of my power will remain unchecked for aeons to come.

I AM THE TRUE FIST OF THE FORUM STAR!
 
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(I've got to admit I borrowed, I couldn't think of anything bad! :D)

Striding confidently between the man high isles, Engar pushed his half-full trolley while seemingly carelessly grabbing items off the shelf. His steady gait was unwavering - he knew where everything was and wouldn't be slowed in his journey.

Except..

Only for a second Engar glanced away, but when he looked back Cucumba was standing there, his imposing form making his surroundings seem pale in comparison.

"Here and now?" Not much of an opening, Engar admitted to himself, but he had been caught off guard.

"Here and now."

Waiting for no more warning, Engar stepped back and pushed his trolley forwards - the trundling metal mass rolling towards Cucumba in an impressive turn of speed. Using this spare second Engar assesed the surrounding walls and made a judgement. One hand plowed through the rows of tins and caught hold of the shelf, the other reaching up to the heighest ledge and pulling hard.

Seconds of scrabbling later Engar was on the top of the isle amongst the tins of soup, watching as Cucumba stared down the approaching trolley with disdain. He glanced up at Engar and smirked,

"Quite the display of courage, let me show you what I can do.."

Cucumba twisted in the direction of Engar's isle and kicked off the ground. His right foot met the secoond shelf solidly and still moving as it creaked in complaint Cucumba turned and kicked off it towards the opposite isle. Sailing right over the trolley, Cucumba landed on his left foot on the 5th shelf - he was now high enough to see over the isle.

One hand grabbed the top shelf and easily pulled himself up, allowing him to kick off and turn the holding into an impressive hand stand. Adjusting his grip, Cucumba smiled at Engar.

"Neat trick," muttered Engar darkly, "Quit fooling around."

"As you wish," Cucumba rocked forwards, then in a sudden movement pushed off from the shelf and did a gracefull back flip, landing on both feet on one of the only bare patches on the entire shelf. He paused and bowed to Engar who returned the motion with a nod, then leapt.

Both hands were held away from his body in opposite directions, hands curled like claws about level with his head. As he soured closer his right foot drew back while the knee bent, his left leg bent only slightly. All this passed in a second, from the moment Cucumba leapt to the moment Engar jumped awkwardly sideways and nearly lost his balance on the tins. Cucumba's right foot landed right where Engar had been, the impact rocking the shelves but not affecting Cucmba who turned - still on the same foot - and swept his arms around him.

One arm extended behind, the other waving for him to attack..

Screaming, Engar did just that. He leapt forwards and swung his right arm around with a quick blow to Cucumba's face. The blow never landed, Cucumba's extended arm swept around and easily knocked his own off course. Even as he did that Cucumba crouched with his other foot going back to balance him, the arm he had had behind him coming around under his other arm in an open palmed blow to Engar's chest.

The blow hurt more than he could imagine, he went from running forwards to falling backwards in a second filled with an explosion of pain and numbness.

Landing on yet more tins, Engar screamed in pain and rolled, in instinct, sideways. This brought him to and over the edge of the shelves; only one flailing hand managed to save him from a painful fall. Fearing death from above even as he climbed back up, Engar only dared glance at Cucumba when he was on both feet.

The warrior hadn't moved which was honorable.. or disrespectful, Engar wasn't sure which.

Rubbing his back with one hand, Engar stepped closer and considered his options. Cucumba was the better fighter - a practiced martial artist - which meant he would have to find his advantages elsewhere. For instance he worked in shops like this and he knew things. Where the bread and frozen things were. Where the floors never quite dried up. How painful a tin of soup could be to the head.

Ignoring the bruises on his back and chest, Engar did a half-jump, half-skip forwards and brought the hand around from his back. As Cucumba stepped back and weaved from the left to the right, his head bobbing in a deft yet never hurried display of skill, the tin in Engar's hand seemed to be burning with a grey inner light.

Swinging it like some sort of deranged modern-day version of a club, Engar took another step forwards as he drove it down from the right, turned on his left foot with the momentum and curled up his right leg before releasing it like a spring - catching Cucumba in a solid kick to the chest.

Stumbling more than flying backwards, Cucumba caught his balance just before falling. Not one to lose an advantage Engar took aim and hurled the soup tin overarm at Cucumba's head, the ancient terror though wasn't about to be stopped by a lunchtime snack, he ducked and the tin soared over his head.

The thing was that Engar wasn't looking to hurt him, he was buying time. The shelves weren't a good place to fight and Engar knew it, he needed to get to lower ground. So he took a short run and a jump, landing a second later on another isle and continuing without pausing. He jumped and jumped, his 4th taking him to the other side of the store and the drinks isle.

He gave one quick look back and immediately regretted it, Cucumba was just landing on the isle behind him and not stopping. His right hand caught something in the panic and he dived towards the left, sailing away from the shelve but in such a way that he landed rolling on the shiney floor below.

Standing up unsteadily, Engar turned in time to witness Cucumba landing crouched on the ground before him. In his hands he easily gripped a 2 litre plastic bottle, when Engar looked he found himself holding the same thing.

"Ready to end this Engar?"

He swallowed down his nervousness and nodded.

"Of course."

They met hard, the bottles connecting with bone-shattering strength that shook Engar to the teeth. Still he couln't stop, he needed to be on the offensive. Spinning right around and using the momentum to bring up his strength, Engar came around with the bottle sailing towards Cucumba's head.

The bottle slid into the way in the last second, though Cucumba had some trouble using it to slow Engar's own one. There was a second, just a second, of uncertainty - then something deep inside that dark and mysterious warrior shifted gears and Engar found his bottle being forced back. And then, looking into Cucumba's eyes, Engar knew he could never win. And it annoyed him.

More than that, it enraged him. That someone could be that strong; that fast; that much better than him. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair!

So, damning the enevitability of it all, Engar stepped back from the confrontation and brought his bottle straight down on Cucumba's with all the strength he could muster. Cucumba faltered, the bottle was too hard to hold and the blow too hard for him to be able to do so - the bottle bounced and danced down the shining floor as I spun around, still furious, and smacked the famous warrior in the back of the head with everything he had left.

Cucumba flew, actually flew forwards and caught his head hard off one of the shelves, causing it to shake so hard that bottles began to fall around them. Ignoring that for a minute, Cucumba turned and rubbed his forehead.

"Not bad."

More relieved than he could believe, Engar nodded happily.

"Not bad at all," the feeling faded slightly as realisation fell, it wasn't over yet, "Are you ready to continue?"

Engar stepped back while all the while, unnoticed, bottles of wine smashed off the floor and sent glass and alcohol shooting upwards in a display that was almost beautiful.
 
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Of all the hideous things spawned on this world, there are few so truly foul as the Girl from Ipanema. It is the very pinnacle of a mountain of dung popularly named elevator music, though it can be found played in any public place where background music is preferred over louder, more distracting popular music. Second to elevator music, were the great old ones, demons left on the earth after a failed creation went awry. On this day, in a local supermarket, both of these ancient horrors were about to collide . . .

Cucumba waited on line, he had precisely 16 items, which meant he would not be getting on the express lane. Ancient horror though he was, no one would allow him to cut. Even the green devil himself had to follow rules. A man at the front, was arguing about prices, being only slightly less annoying than the girl from ipanema. Cucumba wanted change and wanted it now, but he was all about proper channels.

Just as Cucumba was deciding on the store radio's fate while thumbing his ban saber, an angry scottish man jumped through the window of the store's door. "HERE AND NOW, CUCUMBA!"

"So be it," replied the pickled one.

Engar drew his sword and saluted, then charged at Cucumba, with the weapon overhead. The admin readied himself, spreading his legs apart shoulder length. Engar swung the 6 pound sword downward, aiming for Cucumba's shoulder. Cucumba sidestepped to the right. Engar reversed his momentum, swinging back at the green devil's face, which Cucumba leaned back to avoid. Cucumba placed his hands akimbo behind his back, and darted quickly to the left, avoiding another downward strike. Engar ran into Cucumba with his shoulder, knocking Cucumba through a point of sale display for shaving cream. Ironic, Cucumba thought to himself.

Engar ran forward a step and planted a kick in Cucumba's ribs, sending him sliding across the floor. Cucumba fought to inhale, then quickly twirled his legs, until the momentum carried him up onto his shoulder, landing his feet beneath him. The admin stood up and dusted his coat off. "Excellent technique Engar, it has been a while since I was last suprised. Sadly, playtime is over."

Cucumba twirled his fist into a fighting stance, and advanced cautiously. Engar waited for Cuc to draw close, then grabbed the endcap of the shelf and yanked with all his might. Cucumba noticed the deception, and did a diving roll underneath the falling shelves, only barely making it past. Engar dived in with an elbow to Cucumba's head, which the green machine caught with one hand. Without turning his head, Cucumba said, "Not twice."

Cucumba tossed Engar's arm down, and hopped back. "You can do better."

Engar attacked Cucumba again with the sword. Cuc placed his hands akmibo once again, and dodged a horizontal slice by ducking under it. Engar swung it around and came for Cucumba's leg. The admin lifted his right leg and evaded the cut, after which he kicked at Engar's leg. Engar stepped back to evade the crushing side kick, which shattered the tile after Cucumba missed and hit the floor. Cucumba held up a single hand in the "stop" position, Engar halted his attack confused. The green devil smiled and placed his hand in spearhands position. "Do you know what bridgehands is?"

"No . . ," replied Engar, dumbfounded.

"Excellent," replied Cucumba in an entertained voice. "Then I shall show you one of my more deadly techniques." Cucumba began to attack with his right hand, stabbing at Engar with his fingertips folded so they all aligned equally along the index, middle and ring fingers. Engar didn't want to find out what bridgehands did the hard way, so he dodged the first blow by rotating his left shoulder out of harms way. The Scottsman attempted a counterattack with his sword, but Cucumba merely slapped the flat of the blade and threw the attack far off course, exposing Engar's right shoulder. Engar hurried to bring his blade back over, but Cucumba slammed his spear shaped hand into the gap between the pectoral muscle and the clavical. Engar recoiled in pain, amazed that his clavical hadn't broken, and drew his sword up in defense. Cucumba struck with his left hand, also in a spear shape, as he drew the right hand back into chamber. Engar got his sword in the way just in time as Cucumba struck the flat of the blade with the tips of his fingers.

Engar watched in horror as the old one shattered his blade from the midpoint to the tip. Cucumba took the amazement as a sign of momentary lack of concentration on the task at hand. He launched a hooking kick, slamming his heel into Engar's face, knocking him sideways and moving his center of gravity off the base. Engar seemed to tilt there for eternity as Cucumba landed a devistating side punch into his ribs. The challenger new he had to refocus, and do so quickly. Cucumba chambered a spinning back kick as Engar slashed him across the back with the remains of the sword. Cucumba ignored the pain in his back and launched the devistaing bridgehands kick into Engar's chest. Engar soared down the isle and crashed into an upright freezer. The sign read, "TV dinners (chicken)".

Cucumba stumbled to the deli area, and ignited his ban saber. He clutched at his back and fell to his knees, but knew that Engar would be getting up from that kick. The pickled one reached over the counter and turned on the deli slicer as he heard the sound of running feet. Cucumba quickly sliced through the counter and deli machine alike with a diagonal slice from the ban saber, from his in side to his out side. Cucumba spun and saw Engar very close, and performed the same slice, at a slightly different place, quickly bending over backwards to dodge the inevtiable.

Engar watched in horror as the deli slicer's blade broke out of it's bell and crashed through the counter, headed right for him.
 
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After thirty minutes of contemplation, Cuc wins.

Engar, I loved your set up. I don't want to tell you not to do it. So I won't. But unfortunately, it was slightly too long. Hell of a set up though.
 
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I'm sorry Cucumba but homework's really piling up on this end and I'm finding it hard to concentrate. Could you take your go first, it would give me another day to prepare and I really want to give this one my all.

So as long as its ok with you and Miro, I'd like to put my turn off another day.

*After the first round the fighters may attack in any order and you can have extra time if the other fighter or ref permits*
-Dev
 
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Take all the time Cuc is willing to give you
 
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(OOC: Thanks guys, back in the saddle now. :))

As the whirling circle of death approached Engar felt as though time had begun to slow down. He could see Cucumba rising up through the air, half way through flipping to his feet. He could see the light glimmering on the blade as it buzzed towards him. He could feel the cold tingling as the frozen TV Dinner held behind his back began to melt.

He could see death coming closer and closer.

And he would not accept it.

The TV dinner tray dropped to the floor behind him as time sped up again, his right foot stepping onto the slick surface and bracing his body for the sudden shock. Then, as the blade turned metres into feet and feet into inches, chopping away at the distance between them, Engar's hands came together in some sort of clap and caught the spinning blade between the palms of his hands.

There was a moment when nothing seemed; then reality caught up with them.

From Cucumba's point of view Engar suddenly began skidding backwards, both feet balanced on the slick tray, with the blade held between the palms of his hands and still managing to spin on excess momentum. Twisting his body around, Engar released the disc behind him and, leaning against the curve, slid the tray up onto the side of the freezer before riding down it again onto the smooth floor and steering it back towards Cucumba.

He hopped off backwards after coming halfway towards the green one, allowing the tray to skid along to Cucumba who stopped it nonchalantly with his foot.

"Quite the trick," Cucumba twirled his ban saber, "You impress me once more."

Engar barely acknowledged the compliment, “Lets finish this.”

Grinning, the horror extended his sword hand towards Engar and gestured for the younger warrior to attack. However Engar wasn’t stupid. He knew that to attack would be death so he crouchedon his right foot, arms weaving before him, ****ed his right arm at the same height as his head and waved for Cucumba to attack with his outstretched left hand.

The ancient bane of spam ran forwards with the ban saber humming through the air in a horizontal cut at Engar's neck. Bending backwards like some sort of limbo dancer, Engar allowed the energy blade to sizzle past him, then rocked back up and jabbed a fist out at Cucumba who recoiled back out of the way. Balancing on his right foot alone, Engar followed the saber hilt as it finished its arc and quickly change footing; his right flicking up under the hilt of the saber and sending it up into the air.

Cucumba extended on hand behind him and caught the deactivated saber without a thought, clipping it to his belt before taking a deep breath.

Then things became serious, Cucumba flexed his fingers and began jabbing along the pressure points of Engar’s arms. Taking a step back, arms held up to block his face, Engar couldn’t understand the point of the tiny taps that danced along his arms. The point, however, became clear quickly. Leaping back in horror, Engar danced unsteadily out of the way of a half-hearted punch and desperately tried to work his suddenly numb arms.

“Quite impressive, don’t you think?”

With no other alternative Engar turned and ran, skidding as he turned, from the freezer isle and took a turn into one containing fresh fruit and vegetables. He twisted around and shook his arms again, this time bringing some life into what had seemed to be dead weight. He scanned up and down the isle but Cucumba was nowhere to be seen.. unless.. Engar twisted his head upwards and there was Cucumba – standing on the back of the freezers in the next isle.

Engar’s opponent took a running jump forwards, rising upwards with his coat flapping behind him as he twisted his body and raised both feet in mid air. Rolling sideways Engar allowed Cucumba to soar past him; planting his fist in the ancient one’s stomach in mid-air before he could use the opportunity to strike and sending him twirling into an unsteady landing.

Cucumba quickly shook off the disorientation and kicked off the ground, twirling towards the left with one leg held back and the right straightened out in a powerful roundhouse. Ducking underneath that, Engar planted both hands on the ground and swept his feet around at Cucumba’s as he landed. The green pickled monster did not pause; he flipped backwards over Engar’s sweeping legs and landed just as Engar pushed himself to his feet.

Diving forwards, hands forming the bridgehand technique once again, Cucumba’s hands became lethal weapons in their own right. Dodging and weaving from the left to the right, Engar sought only to avoid the attacks as they ploughed through the air inches from his face. Unfortunately he couldn’t keep ahead of Cucumba, sidestepping out of the way of one punch from the left brought him directly into the path of a punch from overhead that nearly managed to floor him and definitely sent him stumbling backwards.

As he caught hold of the hold of one of the isles, his hands tenderly gripping hold of something that seemed useful, Engar assessed the damage. His hands were covered in friction burns, his arms still felt partly numb, his right shoulder wasn’t keeping up and his head was ringing. He kicked off from the isle and rolled off the floor, barely avoiding Cucumba who brought the reactivated ban saber down on the vegetable bin in a swipe that went through the metal like warm butter, carrots and bags of potatoes spilling everywhere.

Looking up, Cucumba caught another bag directly under the chin and flew backwards into another collection of vegetables; carrots and parsnips rolling away under the pressure. Wincing as he got up, the burns affecting his back, Cucumba had only seconds to react as Engar brought the back down heavily where he had been. Having rolled to the side, Cucumba pushed himself away and hopped from one foot to the other, saber swaying slightly as he looked Engar over.

For his part Engar was rubbing his right shoulder with one hand and swinging the bag with the other, finding it hard to swing when using his right while having trouble controlling his left. Engar was a right-hand guy and found the switch difficult.

And Cucumba noticed.

Rubbing his chin, Cucumba sized up the opportunity then seized it. Diving forwards while the bag was still held in Engar’s left, Cucumba brought the saber around and through the plastic and potatoe, twirling under the explosion of brown and white before jabbing it into and down along Engar’s right arm.

Screaming in pain Engar jumped back and fell against the vegetables, holding his hand against a wound that would not bleed. His right arm was blackened where it had been hit, a lump of cauterised flesh that he could barely use anymore through the pain and anguish. It hurt more than he could believe possible, as if Cucumba had left a part of the saber burning inside of the wound.

The arm was useless and Engar knew it, he had only his left arm to defend him now. But, looking up with rage in his eyes, Engar also knew he would fight back all the same.

"Not finished yet.."

(OOC: Win or lose, I liked that one..)
 
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. . . tall and tan and young and lovely . . .

Engar was holding his ribs. They were hurt badly, he'd found out about bridgehands the hard way, exactly as he hoped he wouldn't. The scotsman lifted himself out of his grocer's freezer, and stood shakily. He spied Cucumba briefly, running off to the deli. Engar knew that he had to catch the green devil before he did whatever it was he planned to do. With purpose in his gait, he began to walk, using short measured breaths. His vision was blurring because he couldn't get all the air he needed but he had to make it. He had no choice.

. . . the Girl from Ipanema goes walking . . .

He saw Cucumba cutting the counter, saw him do it twice, and he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with the ban saber. Then with horror he saw the deli slicer's blade careen out of control at him. Engar was sure as the sky was blue that he would wan't no piece of that . . .

. . . And when she passes, each one she passes goes - ah

He quickly slid to the right barely dodging the wheel of death. The blade slammed into the wall, cutting into a poster for a turkey price cut. Engar was enraged, that could have killed him. He grabbed a swiffer mop and placed it at an angle on the floor. He then stomped the mop end off. He looked at his makeshift spear with satisfaction.

When she walks, she’s like a samba . . .

Cucumba was once again clutching his back, standing in a pool of green blood. When he heard the snap he looked up and saw Engar advancing with authority. The green machine knew he had to pull himself together and do it now. Engar charged, taking in a deep breath despite the pain. Cucumba was just standing at his full height when Engar landed on him, knees first, and rammed the broken swiffer mop into the chest of the ancient horror.

Cucumba's eyes opened wide, and a spurt of green blood shot from his mouth. Cucumba hit the floor, his face adorned with a look of suprise.

. . . That when she passes, each one she passes goes - ooh . . .

Engar wasn't done with the green machine just yet. He grabbed him by the mop, and swung with all his might, sending Cucumba into a shelf full of fruit preserves. Engar huffed from the effort and began to walk away.

. . . But each day, when she walks to the sea . . .

Engar froze in his tracks when he heard glass falling to the floor. He turned slowly to see Cucumba pulling the swiffer mop out of his chest. The green devil's eyes were rolled up in his head, and he was bearing all of his gleaming orthidonty like a nightmarish man eating plant. Engar took a step back, bewildered at his inability to kill the admin. Cucumba seemed to look at Engar and tossed him his broken mop. Engar caught it and charged the admin again.

The sounds of the Girl from Ipanema were finally drowned out, it was all for the momemnt, and the momentum of all. Engar swung the broken mop handle furiously, Cucumba blocked it with ease. Engar back swung, using the other end, once again Cucumba successfully countered. This time, he dodged the stick by side-stepping and rolling.

Cucumba breifly went on the offensive taking the mop from Engar after striking his forearm's nerves. Engar swung in desperation, but the green machine blocked with the swiffer and stuffed it into the scottsman's chest. The challenger looked down, dumbfounded. Cucumba entered a low horse stance and blasted Engar with an open palm strike.

Engar flew through the shelves, and broke through many of them, landing three isles away.

He clutched at his chest struggling to regain his wind. Every breath was rattling and difficult to swallow. He sat up and looked over at his advesary, how . . . I was so close! I can't loose on my back.

Cucumba ripped off his leather duster and tossed it to the ground. His angry chest wound bled profusely, as did the one on his back. Cuc gritted his teeth and allowed the chi to build within him again. Cucumba lept in the air, diving towards Engar with a bone chilling roar. Engar quickly got his feet under him and coiled his legs. The two collided, Engar's fist had found the admin's face, while the green devil had rammed his spearhand into Engar's neck.

Both fell to the floor, gasping for air, lying in pools of their blood. Engar was amazed he was still alive, but he could not find the will to fight. The green machine lay silent . . . his last reserves failing.

And when she passes, I smile - but she doesn’t see (doesn’t see)

Both fighters got up . . . barely. Engar's neck wound had missed his arteries and veins by miracles alone, and Cucumba had lost enough blood to make him officially dead.

"Done . . . yet," rasped Engar.

" . . . "

(she just doesn’t see, she never sees me,...)

Cucumba charged at Engar, and promptly dived under the incoming punch. Cuc began striking pressure points, crossing the body and slamming each one home with deliberate aim. Engar felt his skin go on fire as his muscles spasmed then went slack. The mighty admin clapped his hands together in a prayer shape, and slid the tips down Engar's front. When he reached his knees, he quickly chopped his hands outwards. Engar knew something bad had just happened, but he wasn't sure what. Cucumba stumbled back, falling to one knee.

"I . . . w . . . in."

Engar felt his skin erupt as slash marks appeared every where the pickled one had touched him. Blood erupted in a geiser where the admin had slashed with his clasped hands. The challenger fell to his knees and the world spun.

Cucumba struggled to his feet once more, and walked slightly by Engar. A lone man had come close, sensing the fight was now over.

"C . . . can I help him," asked the man nervously. "Or should I wait till you leave . . ."

"He . . . he'll need some *cough* looking after . . . but he's strong. He'll . . . .
*cough* survive. If he . . . asks . . . tell him . . . I'm looking *cough hack wheeeze* for Scruffie next."

The admin stumbled out the door and smiled despite himself.

This victory was earned.
 
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Engar: Freaking excellent use of your surroundings.
I love how you accept yourself as weaker, but still manage to make your attacks connect. You also were successfully able to include Cuc's Martial Arts skills, something I actually feared would condemn you to loss after Cuc's first round win.

Cucumba: Excellent atmosphere with the song. I know cruddy radio music at work. You and Engar are most definately equally matched when it comes to linguistics and eloquence. I also liked how you didn't come out of the battle unscathed.

But unfortunately there can only be one. Now again, this is damn hard to judge. Really damn hard.

But... Engar this time. He did use the surroundings more and he used good imagery when describing the supermarket and managed not to make it overkill.

gj both you guys. I can't wait til round three!
 
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Blinking tears of pain from his eyes, Engar drew himself up and tried to push away the pain that was searing across his mind. As the pickled menace drew back, saber bobbing from side to side, he tried to see some way out of the mess he was in.

“You have fought well Engar, there is no shame in admitting defeat.”

He clutched the blackened lump that was his shoulder and retorted,

“You try it!”

Cucumba stepped forwards sharply and brought the saber upwards, slicing through another shelf of vegetables as Engar moved further down the isle in a twirling dodge. Bumping into the other side of it, disorientation holding for a second, he only just managed to duck under a horizontal sweep which detached one shelf from the isle and forced Engar to make a diving roll onto his bad shoulder.

Screaming and cursing, he got back to his feet in time to see the green one leap over the fallen shelf. The pain was too great for him to move, he stood frozen as Cucumba planted his left foot on Engar’s chest and drew pack his right leg. The blow came quick and hard, the right foot smacking into the side of his face and sending him twirling off balance with Cucumba along for the ride.

Hitting the ground hard Engar immediately tried to push himself up but Cucumba was there, his right foot pressing down on his cheek. The green glow of the saber filled Engar’s vision, hovering inches from his eyes. Cucumba leaned down towards him.

“Ready to give up?”

He spat out flem and blood, the collection vaporizing on contact with the green blade.

“I was about to.. ask the same question.”

Somehow he managed to work his right hand into moving, it shot upwards without a care for the blade and caught hold of Cucumba’s neck. Gripping hard out of desperation and fear of death, Engar pulled the off-balance warrior down further and, with all the strength he could muster, rammed his left fist into Cucumba’s stomach as hard as he could manage.

Then he was off, his vision blurring as he scrabbled to his feet and ran with fading strength. Behind him he could hear the roar of frustration as Cucumba got his breath back, then there was nothing but the thud of his heart in his throat. He froze at the end of the isle, just avoiding bumping into an old lady with an empty trolley.

She took one look at him – burns, blood, glazed expression – and handed him the trolley without a word. He gripped it with his left hand alone, ignoring her as she ran off screaming, but couldn’t manage to work the right. It was gone for good now, at least for this fight.

Still nervous, he pushed the trolley past the freezer isle and towards Cutlery. Metal objects, knives and all sorts. Ammunition.

“ENGAR!”

And there was Cucumba, standing at the far end of the isle with his saber in his hands and coat rippling to the distant breeze of the air conditioning. There might have been a song in the background but the blood was pumping too hard for him to hear much of anything.

There was something else; as his gaze dropped he saw something familiar on the floor. Bending down he picked it up and smiled faintly. Then began to run - straight towards Cucumba.

Half way through the isle he kicked off the ground and flipped on his left hand, landing unsteadily in the middle of the trolley, which rocked but kept going. Crouching slightly, the trolley trundling faster now from the increased momentum, Engar kept his eyes on the distance between the two.

Then he leapt, flying ahead of the trolley with his right arm trailing uselessly and his left straightened out ahead of him.

A green hand grasped his arm, another biting into his burnt shoulder and then, to Engar’s horror, Cucumba twisted and brought Engar in an overarm flip down hard onto the ground. Tiles cracked, isles rocked, bones ached and Engar cursed as the warm stickiness of blood trickled down his nose and onto his lips.

Out of sight Cucumba twirled and brought his saber down in a diagonal slash that resulted in two metallic crashes.

“So much for the trolley,” muttered Engar as he fought against the aches and pains, pushing himself up with his left hand alone.

The humming died.

“I believe in fairness Engar,” looking up he could see the flash of the green warrior’s teeth, “I’m famous for it.”

There was a metallic chink as he took something from a shelf.

“So I’ll defeat you with a mortal weapon, you may choose one for yourself.”

Engar glowered at him.

“You can keep your honour Cucumba, I just want to end it.”

Cucumba smiled again, the huge carving knife glittering like the sun.

“As you wish.”

Engar rolled side ways, the blade humming through the air so close that it nicked his ear, then caught Cucumba’s left with his own – wincing from the still painful burns on his hand – and nearly, but not quite, avoided the knife as it cut into his right shoulder and met bone.

Screaming in agony, Engar fell back against the isle as forks and knives fell around him but let the reopened wound bleed freely for the moment. Cucumba was examining his blade, wiping the blood away with a professional detachment.

“Some knife you’ve got there,” hissed Engar through clenched teeth.

“Thank you, I-“

“What you think of mine?!”

He rose up like a bat from hell: tears streaming down his cheeks, blood soaking his right arm, cuts and bruises all over his body and fire in his eyes. And held between his hands, his right arm screaming with pain even as he swung it upwards, the broken remains of the sword he had lost in the beginning of the fight.

The sword he had reclaimed.

The sword that glowed with an inner light as rage infused its very being.

The sword that sliced through Cucumba’s knife, the top half spinning away, and continued along the green ones chest and past his left shoulder as Engar continued to turn. He twirled on, balancing on his right foot as he reached 360 degrees and ****ing his left foot.

He slammed it into the stunned spam warrior with every ounce of energy he had left, hammering into Cucumba’s ribs and pounding him back against the isle. As Cucumba slid down and landed on the ground, head hung between his knee’s, Engar stumbled back against the opposite isle, broken sword clattering to the floor, and slid down just as Cucumba had.

“So what’s it to be Cucumba, give up?”

There was one difference between the two; Engar had his head held high.

(I never expected to come this far, thanks for a great fight Cucumba. :) )
 
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Cucumba lowered his ban saber and looked at the wounded challenger. The people who were in the store at the beginning of the fight returned to look at the two fighters, and watch the outcome while the manager ran to call the police. The store was in shambles, and the two fighters didn't fare much better.

"Soon, this match will be interupted by the law enforcement agencies of the local government. I don't wish to defeat you with an unfair advantage. Thus, despite the possibility that this match will take far longer, I will disarm myself, so that we may continue unarmed," Cucumba looked in Engar's eyes as he spoke. "You deserve a warrior's death."

Engar eyed the green devil suspiciously, but knew that the master of the sunken city, P'kyl, gave his word only when it was his bond.

Cucumba disengaged the ban saber, and hung it on his belt. "Now, we continue."

Engar looked around and prayed for some kind of leverage. He found none, so decided on retreat for the moment. He ran around the corner, careful to avoid slipping on any vegetables that recently accumulated on the floor. He could hear Cucumba giving chase.

In the cleaning aisle, Engar had found what he was looking for. He reached into the shelves and grabbed a bottle.

Cucumba rounded the corner and briefly saw Engar winding up to splash him with something. The ancient horror tried to close his eyes but it was too late the liquid splashed on his eyes and the burning began. Engar dropped the bleach bottle and grabbed a huge bottle of liquid detergent. Though it was ungainly and combersome as a weapon, Engar new he could hit with it at least once, maybe twice if he was lucky. This would buy him some time.

Engar took one light but long step forward winding up as he went. The mighty admin heard him, but couldn't see where he was. The bleach had impared his vision or blinded him: it wasn't important which. Engar slammed the first hit home, and the 20lbs of liquid collided with the admins skull, sending him to his knees. The scottsman quickly wound the bottle around again and slammed it home in the green machine's face with a dramatic orbital swing.

Cucumba slid across the floor and into the registers, knocking the 1 dollar rag magazines onto himself. He grabbed his head. Between his eyes and his teeth, the Admin was having a very bad day. Engar quickly dropped the murderous soap. Ironic, the challenger thought.

He ran to the freezers, where he had dropped the sword shards. It was the only thing that hurt the ancient bane of spam thus far, and it might be the key to defeating him and surviving. With one arm left, Engar needed every edge he could find.

He obtained the shattered weapon after digging through some chicken dinners and glass, and began to head back to the pickled horror. To no one's real suprise, the admin was missing. Engar looked in every direction frantically, hoping to spy some green. Finally, he spotted some blood on the hideous beige and orange tile and began to track the admin.

Cucumba slid along the aisle, his eyes, back and mouth bleeding profusely. He was having difficulty walking now, the blood loss was taking it's toll. The admin fumbled along, knocking cereal on the floor, and making a racket.

"CUCUMBA," shouted Engar, "WE ARE FAR FROM FINISHED HERE."

"Indeed," replied the admin in a raspy voice, his throat scratchy from blood and bleach alike. "In fact, we have only started." Cucumba steadied himself and hobbled to the center of the aisle.

Engar charged, his confidence swelling, and threw a box of cereal to Cucumba's left while attacking his right with a horizontal slice. The admin blocked the blow and grinned, though he had to right himself again. Engar snarled and kicked at the admin's gut while swinging the sword in a high arc to the neck. The green devil dodged the sword and grabbed Engar's leg, and swung him towards the shelves containing pop tarts. Engar swung his shoulder into it, and simultaneously slashed at Cucumba's hands with the broken weapon. The blow connected, causing the admin to let go and snarl in pain.

"You're improvisation is amazing . . . I'll not forget you after you are vanquished."

Engar was livid. He wouldn't loose to a dying blind man. He pushed off of the shelves, and attacked again, kicking at Cucumba's knee. The admin lifted his foot just in time, thanking god that he could use the ki sensing ability when it had atrophied for so long. The admin sensed an opening and surged forward, throwing his weight into the blow. He could sense the killing chi of the sword strike, feel it's intention. He ducked low and put his hands in the spearhands position once again.

Engar knew that certain things were bad. Car insurance, war, famine, the Girl from Ipanema, but none of those things are nearly as bad as Cucumba counter attacking.

The admins hand peirced Engar's abdominal wall, and tore into his hip. Engar howled in pain and fell backwards. But he kept his grip on the sword, it would strike the killing blow. Engar stood, he was too close to victory to loose now.

Cucumba fell to his knees, it was getting cold and hard to concentrate. He would have to reform this body soon, or suffer a long nap in P'kyl. This mortal was quite skilled, and had toppled him despite his best efforts. He willed his body to stand, he would not die on his knees.

The two lunged forward again, Engar could only see red, and the admin could see only the ki stream that flowed through Engar. Engar slashed in an arc that would cross the legendary admin's throat, but the pickled one was ready for that. Cucumba shot his arm out, allowing the sharp blade to pierce his forarm at the soft spot between the two bones. The pain was excrutiating, and the cut nerves and tendons caused the hand to spasm badly. Cucumba knew he had to act now. He twisted his arm, pinioning the broken blade between his radius and ulnar bones, yanking it free from Engar's grasp. The scottsman gulped in horror.

Cucumba smiled in triumph. He dived in with his knee, connecting hard with Engar's face. The challenger recoiled, falling back a bit. Cucumba began to flip off of his opponent's cervical bones, previously injured by the spearhands technique. Engar could see him comming and jerked himself hard to the floor, narrowly avoiding a deadly kick to the head. Engar saw that the sword had fallen out of the admin's arm during Cucumba's flip, and he reached for it. Cucumba landed and quickly removed his leather duster.

Engar dived for Cucumba once again, the wound on his hip screamed in protest. The admin stood still for a moment and tossed the jacket in Engar's face.

"You smell it, Engar? IT's THE SMELL OF DEFEAT!"

Engar was blind, like the Green Devil. Unlike the mighty admin, Engar could not see ki. Cucumba rammed his spearhand through the jacket and shattered Engar's sternum, sending him flying into a Thomas' English Muffins display.

Engar could no longer stand, and it was quite difficult to breath. The pain was incredable. Cucumba fell on his face, his power utterly spent.

Sirens wailed outside and the crowd muttered to itself.
 
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I loved judging your match guys. I loved it. I hate having to choose a winner though. You've both done excellent and your writing skill is most certainly close to equal.

Damn, I loved both endings. Engar's retrieval of his sword powered by his own rage. Cucumba's sacrifice to his arm by trapping the blade with his forearm bones. Both ending in almost a universal defeat, but not quite.

Anyhow, only one can win, right?

Engar, I had a little difficulty with your flow. Cucumba's flowed just a little better. Cucumba also had a more commanding vocabulary.

Very close... damn close... but Engar, you've lost. Cucumba remains undefeated as of yet.
 
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The police entered the store and secured it, guiding in the ambulance crews. The strange green man was dead, that much was certain. He had bled to death, and had no vitals. The scottish man was unconcious, and he was in desperate need of hosptilization. The scene was recoreded and combed through untill the forensics team had enough to go with.

The body was loaded in the coroner's bag, and the barely living man was sent on an ambulance to be treated.


Sometime later that night, a coroner began to clean his tools as a green eye shot open . . . . and horrible gasp of air escaped the ancient horror.
 

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